


Letters from the Trenches

by HerotheHardWay



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Catra and Adora need hugs, Child Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Memory Alteration, Pre-Canon, Propaganda, but also not supporting each other, but it's not their fault, kid!adora, kid!catra, shadow weaver is evil, supporting each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17882132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerotheHardWay/pseuds/HerotheHardWay
Summary: Catra and Adora are twelve years old, and the [redacted] Horde has just announced a big victory over the [redacted ------] Princess Alliance.  Adora only cares that Catra is upset about something, and she doesn’t know why.





	Letters from the Trenches

**_ADORA_ **

**_18:00 FRIDAY_ **

_BRIIiiiiiiinnnng!!_

The buzzer sounds and the snarling demonic face of a digital Princess blinks out, leaving the smooth floor and columns of the training arena.

“Good work, Adora. Catra, try to keep up next time, you’re lagging behind,” Shadow Weaver says.

Adora turns and extends her hand to Catra, who had just fallen down at the end of the simulation. Personally, Adora doesn’t think that being the last one _literally_ standing means that she should be the winner and Catra gets nothing, but that’s what Shadow Weaver says, so.

Catra is scowling, but when Adora offers, she clasps her hand and allows herself to be hauled upright.

“Nice job taking out that Princess cluster Catra!” Adora says excitedly. She knows Shadow Weaver never gives Catra compliments, even though in her opinion, her best friend is right at the top of their class. Catra is quick on her feet, and good at strategizing, and the best person to have your back in a fight. So, she always points out the awesome things Catra does in the simulations, especially when she isn’t the “winner”. Shadow Weaver doesn’t like it though. She doesn’t like anything Adora and Catra do together.

Catra preens in response to the compliment. “Well, it wasn’t that hard. The Princess programs are always kinda laggy on their left side.”

Adora grins and bumps her best friend’s shoulder as they walk back to the showers together. “Yeah but still! You were like— _swipe swipe! Whatchaaaa!”_ she acts out Catra’s awesome takedown of three Princesses, roundhouse kicking an imaginary foe. “And then— _pow pow! Hiiiyaa!”_ she punches the air and tries to do that flip move Catra is so good at. But she catches her boot on the edge of a step, and instead trips and collapses to the floor.

Catra bursts out laughing. “Hahaha ooh I’ll _definitely_ try that move next time!”

Adora can’t help but laugh too, even though she’s probably going to have bruises on her knees tomorrow. “I dunno, bet it would totally catch the Sims off-guard! They’d be like, what? Does—not—compute—beep boop.” She gets to her feet and brushes herself off. “C’mon, we should hurry, we can’t be late for the presentation.”

They take their two minute showers with ingrained military efficiency, and hurriedly get ready. This is the first time the junior cadets (the older kids call them babies) have been invited to attend the war update meetings, and Adora and Catra have been excited for days, ever since the announcement.

They shower, dress, and are standing in front of the long row of mirrors in a few minutes. Adora quickly runs a hairbrush through her hair, pulls it into a ponytail, and clips her poof in place, while Catra is attempting to groom her mane into a semblance of behaving. She growls and shakes her head when it doesn’t do what she wants, and Adora notices with a little annoyance that Catra is now just a little taller than her. Maybe Catra will stop growing sooner? _Adora_ is supposed to be the tall one.

Catra finally gives up. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway. Let’s go.”

They don’t see anyone else as they race through the halls of the Fright Zone, and that makes them run even faster. This is the most important event they’ve ever been allowed to go to, and even though the active duty soldiers have been talking about some important victory since they got the announcement, the older soldiers have separate barracks and even Catra’s best snooping efforts have been useless.

Adora skids to a halt right before they round the last corner before the auditorium they’re headed to, and Catra bowls into her back. They’re panting, but Adora wipes the sweat off her forehead and Catra quickly runs her nails through her hair, and they walk into the room trying their best to seem mature and important and _not_ like they arrived at the last possible minute.

Luckily, nobody is paying attention to two more junior cadets, because the lights are dimming as they hurry to their assigned seats. Everyone is looking at the huge screen where the Horde’s insignia appears. 

Adora’s eyes feel drawn to the screen, and then Hordac appears on-screen. Or his outline, anyway.

“Congratulations on the victory, soldiers. Shadow Weaver will present our progress,” Hordac says, and then his figure is replaced by the Horde symbol once again, and Shadow Weaver glides onto the stage below the screen. Adora supposes Lord Hordac doesn’t have much time for announcements.

The Horde’s second-in-command stands, hands clasped in front of her. Shadow Weaver begins speaking, “The remnants of the Princess Alliance are scattered and disorganized, and our intel indicates that they are unlikely to reform. This is the victory we have been waiting for. All your hard work has paid off, soldiers.”

Someone starts applauding, and then everyone is clapping. Shadow Weaver waits for a minute until they’ve quieted again, and then finishes, “…and to celebrate, you will all be allotted one free day to use as you wish.”

The auditorium erupts into cheers that are twice as loud as before. Horde soldiers don’t get a lot of time off.

Adora turns to Catra, grinning. “You know what that means right?”

Catra grins and raises one eyebrow. “Plan Fun Times is Go.”

It takes a few minutes for things to settle down after the announcement. Shadow Weaver continues, “And now, I’ve put together a little movie for you to enjoy with some highlights from our victory.”

She glides off the stage and the screen goes dark once again. When the movie starts, Adora wishes it had stayed black. Her eyes are glued to the videos and images that flash in front of her. Beside her, she can feel Catra shaking.

 

* * *

 

The two of them are quiet as the screen goes dark. Adora’s mind is racing and she feels…numb. _All those people. Little kids. Innocents—and what does that make them?_

_The Horde—the Evil Horde_ she’d heard them called that before but she’d always dismissed it. The Horde was safety, and family, and they’re doing the right thing! Or she’d always thought so. Now though…now she knows bone-deep it was all a pretty lie. When her eyes meet Catra’s, she can see all the same feelings reflected there. Adora and Catra are swept out of the auditorium in the tide of other soldiers, and they automatically link hands to stay together. Right now the feel of Catra’s hand in hers is the only thing Adora _can_ feel.

They walk on autopilot back to their barracks. And sit next to each other on their bed. And just stare at nothing.

Adora feels like she’s been punched in the gut. All the excitement, about being recognized as mature enough to be included. The anticipation leading up to the presentation. They’d felt important, and grown up, one step closer to becoming force captains. Now all she feels is hollow. What are they even doing here?

Catra is still shivering uncontrollably. Neither of them have spoken a word since before the presentation began. So Adora scoots back, and lies on her side. She pulls Catra down with her, and they curl into each other like two parentheses, gripping each other’s hands so tightly it hurts. Adora never wants to let go.

They stay like that for a long time. The barrack is quiet and empty around their bed, and Adora vaguely remembers that there was a party after the announcement in their weekly itinerary. All their friends must be at that.

Eventually Catra’s shivering slows and stops, and the buzzing feeling in Adora’s chest fades away and she can breath again. Barely.

“ _Adora,”_ Catra whispers, “ _what are we gonna—“_ she breaks off, sniffing.

Adora opens her eyes and fixes them on a freckle on Catra’s cheek. She whispers back, “ _I dunno—I guess we—“_ she exhales and meets Catra’s mismatched eyes. “Whatever we do, we have to stick together.” She says, voice stronger, and presses their foreheads together.

“Maybe we could…leave?” Catra ventures, sounding shocked at her own daring.

“Leave…the Horde?” Adora gasps. She can’t wrap her mind around it. “But where will we go?”

 Catra’s eyes are fierce. “Just anywhere but here.”

That sounds scary. They’ve never left the Fright Zone. But then Adora remembers that video. “Okay,” she whispers, “but we’ll do it after we sleep. So we can get farther away.” Adora mumbles.

“Sounds…good…” Catra trails off, and relaxes away from Adora so their foreheads are no longer touching.

Adora feels like she just finished annual fitness reviews on top of normal training, and every part of her body weighs a thousand pounds. She just wants to sleep but every time she closes her eyes she sees the smoke and ash and hears percussive gunfire and terrified screaming.

After a long, long time, Adora drifts off to sleep.

* * *

  

**_CATRA_ **

**_05:00 AM SATURDAY_ **

It’s close to morning when Catra jerks awake from a nightmare. Crap, she hadn’t meant to sleep this long. She turns and looks at Adora, who is curled up next to her. Adora looks just as exhausted as she did when they fell asleep, but Catra knows they have to leave _now_ , before people start waking up. She looks around, but the only things they own are the clothes they’re wearing and the blankets on their beds. Catra silently pulls the blanket off her top bunk, then gently shakes Adora awake.

 Adora blinks awake, blue eyes droopy with weariness. Catra beckons to her, and gestures to the door, and Adora’s blanket. _Let’s go,_ she says silently. Adora understands, and nods, already awake and alert. It’s what they’ve been trained to do, after all. She quietly gets up and shrugs on her jacket, then wraps her blanket around herself, and the two girls pad out of their sleeping quarters.

The halls are deserted at 0500. Catra assumes everyone is tired from the partying that went late into the night last night. Nobody will ever say the Horde doesn’t know how to have a wild time, when they put their minds to it. Catra remembers a couple years ago, there had been some other major victory, maybe even bigger than this one. She and Adora hadn’t been allowed to go of course, but they’d spied on the carousing. There was drinking, and wrestling, and a few fights had even broken out. It hadn’t looked very fun to Catra but maybe that’s what grown-ups think is fun. She and Adora had wandered off after a little bit to find an empty storage bay to play in.

Catra pulls her blanket over her head like the hood of a cloak, and Adora does the same. Catra is leading them towards the skiff hanger, and for some reason Adora keeps glancing at her in confusion. They creep through empty hall after empty hall, and only have one close call, when one of the soldiers on a routine patrol shuffles groggily by at an intersection. He doesn’t even check the hallway as he passes. _Idiot_ , Catra can’t help but thinking.

They reach the hanger, and Catra quickly taps the passcode that she memorized months ago and saved for a rainy day. She’d thought it would be fun to steal something, and Adora always goes along with whatever crazy ideas she comes up with.

The hanger is vast and deserted, and their footsteps echo in the empty space. Various air and land crafts sit on wheels or treads or hover in the air. Catra whispers, “Do you know how to drive?”

Adora’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, I just started the driving certification. Didn’t I tell you that on Tuesday?”

“Well, haven’t they taught you anything?”

“Only what all the symbols mean!” Adora whispers forcefully, “We haven’t gotten to _try_ them yet!”

Catra wrinkles her nose, and scans the vehicles in their vicinity. “Ok change of plan. We’ll take a bike.” She nods at an older looking hover-bike that looks close enough to what they’d used in Basic Vehicle Operation.

Adora looks worriedly back at the door they entered through. “Catra, what if someone finds out?”

Now it’s Catra’s turn to be surprised. She thought Adora understood. “They won’t find out. Not until we’re gone, anyway.”

It’s a few seconds before Catra realizes Adora is no longer walking with her. She turns to see her best friend frozen in place a few feet behind her. Adora’s mouth is hanging open. “Wait, you mean… _leave?”_

“Yeah, doofus, what did you think I meant?”

“I—I—Catra we can’t just—we can’t just leave!” There’s something in Adora’s eyes that Catra has never seen before, not that strong. Fear? Fear of _what?_

“C’mon, we have to go, right now!” Catra demands urgently, walking towards the bike. It’s uncharacteristic of Adora to be hesitant like this. Especially given what they saw last night. “Everyone is going to be waking up soon!”

Adora looks small, like she’s folding in on herself. “But—but I don’t know what’s out there!”

_“Freedom_ is what’s out there! Adora we _have_ to go, this is our chance!”

“It’s safe here! We’re safe in the Fright Zone!”

Everything Catra thought she knew about her best friend is disintegrating. How can she say that? After what they saw? The Horde is _evil_! Catra always thought Adora was the righteous one, between the two of them. The one who believed in standing up for what’s right. She’s defended Catra against Shadow Weaver, even when Catra wishes she’d let her fight her own battles. She chews other cadets out when they bully Kyle. But she’s okay with—with murder? 

Catra reaches out to Adora. “C’mon! Let’s just go, right now! Like we talked about!” 

But Adora is still standing right where she stopped, looking blankly at Catra. “The Horde is our home. We have everything we need right here.”

And then, she turns her back on Catra, and walks out of the hanger. She doesn’t look back.

Catra stares after her for a long time. Then she turns back to the bike. How badly does she want freedom? Does she want it badly enough to leave Adora behind? Adora said that the Horde is their home. That’s not true for Catra. She’d leave the Horde in a moment, and she was ready to right now. She slips onto the seat of the bike, grips the handles tightly, until her nails start cutting into her palms. She squeezes her eyes tight, and can’t prevent two tears from slipping down her cheeks.

Then she gets off the bike, and follows Adora out of the hanger. Catra finds her already back in bed, sprawled out and fast asleep. Catra carefully lifts the blanket and slides in next to Adora. She closes her eyes and imagines it: if they’d really done it. If Adora had been brave enough to leave everything they know behind. And no matter how hard Catra tries, every story she tells herself is the same. Her and Adora, flying across the desert on their stolen hover-bike. Together. Because Adora’s home might be the Horde. But Catra’s home? Catra’s home is Adora. And she’ll never leave her behind.

 

* * *

 

**_ADORA_ **

**_15:00 SATURDAY_ **

It’s the middle of the afternoon before Adora finds Catra. Her friend always finds the most remote, most difficult to find places to hide when she’s upset, and this time is no different. After searching all the usual locations (Boiler Room #4B, the ledge above the pipes outside the mess hall, the 4th floor deck looking south towards the endless desert) she finally glimpses Catra’s silhouette high above everything else. She climbs a ladder, and scrambles up a couple pipes, and balances carefully across a few more, her feet a dizzying height above the ground. When she finally heaves herself up to the platform at the very top, she’s sweating and panting and the headache she’s had all day is flaring up with a vengeance. Catra is slumped on the far edge of the platform, legs dangling over the edge.

“Who even built this place?” Adora wonders aloud.

Catra doesn’t turn around, but she does say, “Someone who was reading the layout upside-down, probably.”

Adora snorts. “Yeah I bet nobody’s ever come up here except you, since they built it.”

“You got up here okay.” Catra says, and Adora recognizes it as an invitation and goes to sit near her. She leans against one of the pipes sticking through the platform, her legs sticking out in front of her back the way she’d arrived. Catra hates feeling like she’s being forced to talk when she doesn’t want to.

After a few minutes she says, “I had a reason to come up here.”

Catra leans her head against the same pipe, but facing the opposite direction. It’s warm up here at the top of the world: It’s summer, and even though the sun is setting, all the metal surrounding them radiates heat. Adora is so _tired_. She’s been tired all day, even though they went to bed early last night. Her head hurts, and her eyelids drift shut unintentionally.

She must have dozed off for a few minutes, but she jerks back awake when Catra speaks. “How do you justify it though? I thought _you_ most of all…” she trails off.

Adora fights through waves of tiredness to knit together some kind of train of thought. “I just want to do the best I can? I want to find out what that looks like, you know? I’ll never know if I don’t try.”

Catra is quiet for another minute. Then she says, in an unexpectedly strong voice, “I don’t want to be force-captain. Not ever.”

_That_ makes Adora actually look at her. Catra is still facing out, away from her, but Adora can see the tension in her posture. “Why not? If you’re force captain, nobody else can tell you what to do!” She pauses, thinks, “well I guess Shadow Weaver, and Lord Hordac still can. But everyone else!”

The tension drains out of Catra’s body. “But that’s not real freedom. I just want—“ she finally turns around and faces Adora, and she’s laser-focused. “When you make force-captain. No, I know you will,” she says when Adora makes a noise of protest, “when you’re force captain. I’ll follow you. But nobody else, understand? I won’t follow anyone else unless they _make me_.” She hisses.

Adora feels like she’s missing some important piece of information. But she meets Catra’s eyes and says, “Sounds good,” and grins. She spits into her hand, and holds it out. Catra does the same, and they shake, in a way that is both solemn and kind of gross. And then the instant they let go, they both try to smear each other with their spit, wrestling around the platform. A few minutes later they both collapse, panting, lying on their backs and staring up at the blue-purple sky. If Adora doesn’t move her eyes, she can almost pretend they’re not in the Fright Zone anymore. That maybe they’re lying in the sand way out in that desert. That would be nice, she thinks.

* * *

 

**_ADORA_ **

**_00:30 SATURDAY_ **

Adora opens her eyes to the dim light that constitutes night in the Fright Zone. Her fellow cadets are dark lumps under blankets in their bunks and Catra is a familiar weight on her feet. It must be the middle of the night now. She sits up, looking for what caused her to wake up. The looming figure of Shadow Weaver in the doorway is her answer.

Shadow Weaver beckons to her with one sharp talon and Adora slides out of her bed and pads across the floor. Her pulse is racing and she feels sick to her stomach, but disobedience is not an option. Shadow Weaver stands aside to allow Adora out of the sleeping hall and then glides behind her. “Walk with me, Adora.”

It isn’t really a walk as much as an escort, Adora thinks. Can Shadow Weaver read her mind? Does she know she’s been doubting the Evil Horde’s teachings? Where are they going in the middle of the night?

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver rasps, “what did you think of the presentation? It was your first one, very… _illuminating_ was it not?”

Bright flashes from the canons. White-hot explosions blooming. A woman who looked directly at the camera right before—

Adora is standing frozen in the middle of the hallway. She blinks, and tries to cover up her reaction, but it’s too late. Shadow Weaver narrows her eyes. “I see. Well I suppose it can’t be helped. Follow me.” She glides down the hall and turns— _no_ —in the direction of her innermost chamber. The Black Garnet room.

Adora swallows hard. She can’t help the shiver that goes up her spine. The last and only time she and Catra had gone in there…But she has no choice. So she crosses her arms tightly across her chest, and pads after her, bare feet chilled by the cold metal floor.

After an eternity and the blink of an eye, they are standing in front of the door. Adora’s pulse is throbbing in her fingertips and every instinct tells her to _run._ So when Shadow Weaver is entering her passcode, she makes a break for it.

She makes it only a few steps before a black tendril grabs her ankles lightning-fast and yanks her to the floor. She is grabbed by the back of her shirt and hauled upright, then lifted into the air. She screams, “Let—me—go!” kicks out wildly, but nothing connects. Shadows can’t be touched, after all.

“ _I know every thought that goes through that little head of yours,”_ Shadow Weaver hisses into her ear, _“Did you think you could just run away? From_ me? _You’ll always be mine, Adora.”_

Adora is released all of a sudden and drops to the floor in a heap. She turns onto her hands and knees, gasping for breath, keeping her eyes on the floor. She can’t run away, but there’s one last option. She lunges forward, and manages to get one solid punch in before she’s yanked backwards and wrapped tightly in soot-black cords. The place where her knuckles connected with Shadow Weaver burns like ice.

Shadow Weaver’s eyes burn with rage. _“Insolent child!”_ she screams, and rushes into the Black Garnet room, whipping Adora after her. The door snaps shut, and her dark aura grows and grows to fill every corner of the room. _“I have raised you as if you were my own daughter, and_ this _is the treatment I get?”_

Adora doesn’t even get a chance to look around the room before she’s slammed onto a gurney, knocking the breath out of her. Restraints activate instantly, tightly binding her limbs against movement. She lets out a single yell before she’s gagged, but Adora knows that nobody is coming to rescue her. That’s not how it works around here.

Shadow Weaver ever so delicately positions her hands to either side of Adora’s head. She feels heat on her ears as a crackling red glow envelops her peripheral vision, and all she can do is look helplessly into Shadow Weaver’s masked face as that light comes closer and closer to her skin. 

Then her fingertips touch Adora’s temples and her world narrows until the only things in it are the pink-red of Shadow Weaver’s crystal and the agonizing pain lancing through her system. She thinks she tries to scream, but no noise comes out, and then everything goes dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh thinking about Catra and Adora's childhood will be the death of me. Raise ur hand if you also couldn't stop thinking about this idea after No Princess Left Behind because I certainly couldn't. Comment/kudo if you enjoyed the read :)


End file.
